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He glances at me, a little sparkle in his eye. “Are you jealous?”
“No, not at all. You left her for me, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” He leans to the side, studying me with that cocky smirk. “Youarejealous.”
“Don’t be a prick.” I finish my tonic water and turn my back to the bar, crossing my legs.
I am a little bit jealous.
Nota lotjealous, since he’s doing all of this for me to begin with, but there’s still a stupid part of my brain that’s jabbering about how Robin’s so rich and sophisticated and definitely a better match for him than I could ever be.
I need that dumb part of my head to be quiet.
“It’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry. Robin has no interest in me and I have no interest in her.” He gets up and puts an arm around my waist protectively. “She’s going to be here soon, so please, be nice.”
“I’m always nice.” I glare at him. “You be nice.”
“There you go, that’s the spirit.”
I shrug away from him. “It’s fine, okay? I’m not going to get all jealous and weird on you.”
“I’d kind of like it if you did.”
“That’s extremely weird.”
“Ilikethat you want to possess me.” He laughs softly and catches my wrist before I can walk away. “Just admit you’re a tiny bit jealous.”
“Okay, fine, I’m a tiny bit jealous. Are you happy? She’s the one your family wanted you to marry.”
“That’s what you don’t understand.” He touches my chin and leans in to kiss me. “My family doesn’t matter.”
Before I can respond, a brunette woman comes striding through the club in a pair of oversized black sunglasses, a Chanel bag under her arm, a pair of designer heels clacking away.
“There you are,” she says, taking the sunglasses off. “Some bored-looking little boy at the front tried to send me away. I think his name was Shane?” She stops and looks at me, a little surprise in her face, before her expression turns to a knowing grin. “That makes sense.”
“Sorry, what?” I ask, bewildered.
Finn rubs his face. “Robin, this is Dara. Dara, this is Robin.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, hands on her hips. “She’s pretty, Finn. Now I get why you knocked her up.”
“Uh, thanks?” I look at him, not sure how to react to this.
“It’s a compliment,” he assures me. “I think.”
“We need to get down to work.” Robin tosses her bag on the bar and snaps at the bartender. “White wine. Big glass. It’s on the house.”
The bartender looks as overwhelmed as I feel, but after a nod from Finn, he starts pouring, only stopping when he reaches the top of the glass.
“How many people does your dad want to invite?” Finn asks, sitting down next to her.
Robin sips off the top of the wine before taking out a thick, black, leather-bound notebook, flipping through pages. Sticky notes and scraps poke out all over the place like she shoved random pieces of paper inside with zero organization. It makes my head hurt.
“At least two hundred,” she says, tapping her chin. “Maybe more if the French delegation is in town, which I believe they are.”
“Two hundred, and we’re supposed to have this done by next week.” Finn’s seething. “How the fuck do you expect me to get something like that together on no notice at all?”
“Use your industry contacts. You’re aCrowley,for fuck’s sake. Spend money!”
